


don't know where we're going but we know where we belong.

by honiedwonder



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, alex and willie are there but..... not the focus, would basically do anything for luke and julie so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:08:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29115756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honiedwonder/pseuds/honiedwonder
Summary: julie said it herself. the reason they worked so well was because they were drawing from the same pain. an invisible bond tied together with trauma that outlasted a quarter of a century.or. . .luke & julie anchoring each other.
Relationships: Alex Mercer/Willie (Julie and The Phantoms), Julie Molina/Luke Patterson
Comments: 11
Kudos: 93





	1. two hearts in one home.

**Author's Note:**

> title ripped straight from "sweet creature" by harry styles. hope y'all like it. <3

It was a lazy songwriting Saturday. 

Ray had taken Carlos to baseball practice, and Willie had taken Alex and Reggie downtown to an abandoned pop-up to hang. 

(Luke had been invited. It was a surprise to absolutely no one when he'd turned that invitation down. He tried to pretend he hadn't seen Reggie roll his eyes before vanishing with the other two.)

Julie had waited until she'd heard the car pull out of the driveway before slipping into the studio. Curls tied up in a knot on top of her head, sweatshirt hanging from her shoulders, and leggings scrunched at the ankles because she _ just wasn't quite tall enough to fill them out _ : she was simultaneously the picture of ease and beauty. Maybe it was in the ease in her personality, the weightlessness with which she carried herself, that fueled her beauty. Or maybe Luke was just thinking about it a little too hard, a little too long. Leaned back against his couch, he blinked swiftly to dispel the stare he'd laid upon her. 

Black jeans hung loosely from his hips, and a sleeveless band tee -  _ The Clash _ \- billows around his middle. His hair, too, was pulled back, tucked into a beanie. Julie meets his stare when she comes in and a subtle smile rises to her lips. She liked it when his hair was out of his face. His eyes reminded her of a mood ring. So expressive, but only if you knew how to read them. Bright green, cloudy emerald, muddy hazel. A color for every emotion he wore just as clearly on his face. 

He doesn't miss the smile that she gives him and offers her one in return. 

"You're in here by yourself?" Julie asks as she comes to flop down beside him on the couch. She curls her legs beneath her and leans back against the cushions behind her to peer up at him.

"Alex and Reggie went out with Willie," Luke explains, turning his head to look to her. 

She nods, though one brow quirks as a preface to her next question. "And you didn't want to go. . ."

He shakes his head, expression incredulous.  _ As if there were any other answer. _ "No. No, we've got things to do. Right, boss?" 

She wouldn't have admitted it, but that was exactly the answer she wanted to hear. 

_ Because it was a lazy songwriting Saturday.  _

Saturdays, mornings specifically, had become sacred time for the band. Homework could be put on hold for another day. She didn't need to rush off to school, and the Molina house was always peaceful. No one questioned the soft music that played inside the studio. Things were just easy on Saturday mornings. Luke liked to tease that he would have to pencil her in to his tight schedule, but they both knew that his afterlife revolved around her. Though her smile is close-lipped, it isn't lacking in excitement.

"Yeah, we do," she responds enthusiastically, bouncing up from her spot as quickly as she had fallen into it. She practically skips to the piano across the room, and he chuckles as he rises to follow her. Composition books and loose leaf paper are scattered across the top of the grand piano littered with notes from late nights and passing moments. She's quick to sort through them as if each had a specific place. He walks around the opposite side of the piano and leans forward on his forearms to watch her with an amused, partially crooked smile. He bites his bottom lip to keep it from getting too wide. 

That was one of the differences between the two of them when it came to music. Luke was unorganized, messy. He wrote music as the thoughts fell from his mind. One glance at a piece of paper with his inexcusable script would tell you as such. Words fell diagonal to the lines on the page; phrases were scratched out with black ink and replaced with blue. Julie was calculated and precise. She did most of the work in her head. If you looked close enough, you could see the wheels turn behind her temples as her pen hovered over the page. Her handwriting was neat, following the lines as a guide. The fact that she could even make sense of his process impressed him. That bottom lip falls from between his teeth into a smile he'd tried to contain when she finally plucks the piece of paper she'd been looking for and holds it up as if it were a prize. 

"We're so close on this one! The chorus is perfect, but we still can't get that bridge. We should start here." 

He nods once and swings an arm out toward the piano bench as an invitation. "After you, m'lady." 

An hour passes by in the matter of seconds. The melody Julie had played on the piano was on repeat in Luke's mind. They'd worked through the material they had and bounced new ideas off of each other until finding a compromise. Luke had held the pages up against the built-in stand, a blue pen in his mouth, as her hands glided over the keys. She had reached over without an ounce of hesitation to take the pen from between his lips to jot down any ideas. She wasn't a perfectionist, but . . . if this song was going to be perfect, they needed to be able to read it days from now when the excitement of fresh lyrics had worn off. Julie was getting fairly good at reading Luke's handwriting, but she wasn't a miracle worker. They'd only needed a bridge into the second chorus when they'd begun and had completely reworked the second half of the song. 

Luke had moved to grab his guitar, sitting again at his couch, as she played the underlying melody. Reggie could work in a killer harmony when he got back, and Alex could speak to the tempo he felt was best. Their ideas were never fully realized until the rest of the band had their say,  _ but that was how they liked it _ . 

Julie drew a star in the corner of the page once a comfortable silence had fallen over the two of them and placed it carefully back in the pile of pages still scattered atop the piano.  _ Right in the place it had been before _ . She makes her way over to him, but not before grabbing his original songbook with dog eared pages on the way. 

Luke slides his pick between two strings for safekeeping and slides his guitar onto the floor when he sees her coming. Most songwriting Saturdays ended this way: one successful project ready for the next step and a million others started as the morning took on a drowsy light. 

Julie sits farther away from him than he'd anticipated and he's sure that if she were paying attention, she would see the confused pout form on his face. As she tilts to the side, he realizes what her goal is and any tension in his expression is released. She leans back until her head is in his lap. She lays flat so that she can look up and gaze at him. The notebook in her hands isn't forgotten and she bends her knees until her legs create a place for it to sit upright. Luke tosses one arm over the back of the couch and the other falls to his leg behind her head. He reaches for a stray curl that had escaped the rest and twirls it around his finger absentmindedly. 

Julie loved looking at the work Luke had done before he knew her. Hell,  _ before she was born _ . It was hard for her to remember that the boy beside her had existed in a time completely foreign to her. It was unnerving sometimes to think of the years he'd spent in whatever limbo they had been stuck in, but it was also beautiful to read his lyrics and know that time couldn't separate the connection that they had. She could feel his words through the page, whether they were unfinished or polished. She got to glimpse into his soul and compare it to her own. Often, she found a mirror there. It had been a while since she'd flipped through this particular notebook. 

Many of the pages had been ripped out: open wounds. The songs that had been taken from him while he was six feet under had been tucked away. Luke could never get rid of them, but looking at them fueled the rage he had for Bobby - Trevor  **_Fucking_ ** Wilson - and Julie deserved more than that. 

She always took a moment to graze over the torn edges of the removed pages with her fingers. So delicate, almost as if she was trying to apologize for betrayal that had nothing to do with her. 

Someday, he would thank her for it. 

Today, however, she flips a little too far. He'd given up hope on the dog ear method. Julie Molina was too curious to follow his rules, and he would have done the same had roles been reversed. She'd just never gotten this far. She had always stopped at a song that needed to be finished or asked about the inspiration for a chorus that she had hope for. 

When Julie opens to the page in question, her breath catches in her throat. Her fingers trace the dented and scratched page where the pen had been pressed to the paper too hard and trace the path of his mindless, angry scribbles. 

It was a draft of "Unsaid Emily". Well, what was  _ left _ of a draft, anyway. 

He had written so many angry half-verses. He'd tried out hateful words in place of woeful apologies. It had taken two weeks away from his mother to realize that he missed her, for that anger to subside. He'd done his best to scratch out the words he was ashamed he'd written, but a few unfinished thoughts remained. Music was the best way he knew to process his thoughts, and they had been tinted red for so long at the beginning. 

The finalized lyrics were in his mother's possession now.  _ Because of Julie _ . He'd almost forgotten that this version existed. 

Almost forgotten how  **hateful** the falling out had been. 

Julie reads what she can, that comfortable silence suddenly deafening. His hand had stilled in her hair and it doesn't go unnoticed.  _ Another glimpse into his soul _ . There wasn't a mirror that met her this time, though. She stood in front of a window covered by black curtains. 

Julie understood the pain that he felt in losing his family. She understood it with a bittersweet passion. 

But this was uncharted territory. 

Her lips part to speak, but she hasn't yet found the words. She can't put them together into a question that doesn't spark nervous butterflies in her stomach. She didn't want to ruin this peaceful morning with him, but he was a fool if he wasn't expecting her curiosity. 

"Will you tell me about that night?" She tilts her chin upward to catch a glimpse of his eyes, searching them for his reaction. The color was deep. It reminded her of a forest. Uncertain, stormy. Unpredictable waters she was treading. 

Luke is frozen above her, looking down at her with a certain wonder that teeters on regret and secrecy. Twenty-six years may have passed, but it felt like yesterday. 

"Julie, I -"

She cuts him off before he gets a chance to finish. "You don't have to. Really, it's okay. I shouldn't have asked."

His gaze softens and he thaws in the slightest. "It's just . . . it's not my proudest moment." That was an understatement. 

A line had formed between his brows as he looked down at her, the subject pinching his expression into one she knew well. Luke was good at keeping his feeling bottled up, but his face hadn't quite learned that trick yet. Julie reaches up to press her thumb to the tension just between his eyes, running her finger over the top of his eyebrow and tracing down the side of his face to cup his jaw in her palm. In easing the lines on his face, she was sure they had just appeared on her own. But it was okay; she could bear that tension for a moment. 

"You know that doesn't matter to me."

He nods, appreciative, though at a loss for words. He did know that. Frankly, it made him want to tell her even less. Things had gotten ugly the night he stormed out on his family. They'd been ugly for a while. 

It takes him a few minutes to even open his mouth. She doesn't mind. She waits patiently, head still in his lap, eyes watching for any shift in the weather of his irises. He's looking anywhere but her, but she couldn't have cared less. She would wait however long he needed. 

She knows he's ready when he coils that piece of hair around his fingers one more time, walls down. 

"We, uh . . . we used to fight all the time. Me and my mom. We had different priorities. She definitely had a different vision for my life than I did." His voice is quiet. He's afraid that if he speaks too loud, he'll ruin what little peace is left in this room. "They bought me my first guitar for Christmas when I was 12. My dad even paid for lessons. I used to keep them up so late trying to learn how to play."

The thought brings a bittersweet smile to his face. She reaches up to grab his hand from the back of the couch and pull it down into her own. She twines her fingers with his and lets their joined hands rest on her abdomen.  _ It's okay _ . He rubs his thumb over the back of her hand: a quiet _thank you_. 

"She tried to be supportive when we first got the band together. She offered up our house for rehearsal a few times, but we just didn't have the space. Bobby's parents had cleaned out the garage at their place, so we moved all of our stuff in there. That's where I spent most of my time. Here, I guess. I wasn't home a lot, and I know that pissed her off. Things just weren't . . . great when I was there, y'know? Which made me want to be there less.

"My grades started to drop. I skipped class every once and a while to write or rehearse. We were going somewhere. I mean, we were finally snagging gigs that weren't in someone's living room. She just seemed so disappointed all the time. Like nothing I did would make her happy, even if I was."

He remembered awkward dinners at 8 o'clock because they'd waited for him to come home. The food was always cold and his mom was always silent. His dad tried to ease the tension, but Luke knew that he didn't have an ally in this. Hindsight was always 20/20, wasn't it? 

Luke keeps his gaze on their hands, afraid that if he looks directly at her, he'll say too much. 

Julie keeps her eyes trained on his, watching for that glassy hazel storm. 

"I used to stay with Reggie when things got bad. His parents weren't exactly perfect, but they always had the space. I guess the school called and told my mom that I didn't show up that day. I only came home to grab a few more things, tell her where I was, and she just . . ." He shakes his head and rakes his teeth over his bottom lip. Nervous habit. 

"We just started screaming at each other. We both said things we didn't mean, but it was just so. . . hateful. I'd never seen her that mad. Telling me that I needed to get my head on straight, that I needed to spend less time with the guys. Getting gigs wasn't important, graduating was. She told me she wished she'd never bought me the guitar and I just lost it.

"I grabbed my bag and just started shoving things in that I thought I needed. I blamed her for not believing in us. I told her how pointless high school was, how much I hated the fact that she wouldn't trust me."

Julie sees it before it happens. His eyes are narrow, blinking back the thunder, but she still sees it. Eyes darken in the slightest, those subtle flecks of brown crowding in on the edges. Her own eyes sting and she doesn't realize that she's started to cry. 

This pain wasn't one she knew. It wasn't one she understood. Her family had been behind her even when she'd turned her back on music. She had always had someone supporting her dream despite the fact that losing her mom had forced her to lose sight of it. To balance the pain of losing his family without ever once having them carry him when he needed it . . . suddenly, she could feel the hateful scribbles and torn pages from his songbook as if they had been her own.  _ She could only imagine _ . 

Julie wipes at her own tears hastily, making a move to console his before they fall. She squeezes the hand she's still holding and uses it to anchor herself into a sitting position. She keeps hold of his hand in front of her, but moves to sit directly beside him. Her hip touching his, her leg pressing into his. She wraps herself around the arm that she just can't bring herself to let go of and leans her head against his shoulder, melting into his silhouette. 

He waits until she's still to say anything else. The minute it takes for her to settle herself against him he takes to breathe. Alex and Reggie knew this story well. They'd been around when he'd tried, and failed, to pick up the pieces. It wasn't a night he liked reliving. They didn't bring it up unless he did, not after those first few weeks. He settled into the garage outside Bobby's house and dedicated his life to Sunset Curve. That was what he wanted, wasn't it?

He lets out an audible sigh when she places her head against his shoulder. She deserved to know how this ended. 

"I, uh. . . I told her that I never wanted to see her again. Before I left. I grabbed my guitar and my backpack and I left. I stopped going to school. Stopped doing anything, really, that didn't have to do with the band. The first time I saw one of those missing posters," his voice cracks and he pauses, cursing himself for rambling. For letting his feelings get the best of him. 

"I knew I hurt her, but she hurt me too. She was supposed to be in my corner always. No matter what, that's the deal that you make when you have kids." Voice raises slightly, the anger he'd kept in tact rearing its ugly head. He clears his throat and shakes his head, still avoiding her worried gaze. "Sorry."

He feels a tear hit his shoulder and roll forward onto his arm. He cranes his neck to look at her, but only finds the top of her head. 

"Jules, I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"Don't." Julie lifts her head, chin still resting on his shoulder, and raises her glassy eyes to his. The darkness was fading from around his pupils the longer he looked at her. She almost wanted to laugh. He was the one reliving his past, and he was worried about her. 

He was impulsive and hot-headed and overbearing, but. . . his heart was unmatched. 

"Don't apologize to me. You have nothing to be sorry for." She unravels an arm from around his and reaches for his face once more, thumb tracing the line of his jaw before falling to rest at his neck. "You both made mistakes, but it was never too much to ask for her to support you." 

The gravity of their situation weighs upon her in moments like this: when she's forced to think about all of the things that had been ripped from him when his life had ended. _All of the things she wanted to give back to all of them_.

Luke tries to blink away the tears in his eyes that reflect her own, but one slips past his defense and rolls down his cheek. It should feel warm. He can remember how hot angry tears felt, but the feeling is just that: a memory. 

Julie is quick to wipe it away.

"I'm proud of you, y'know," Julie voices quietly. The lump in her throat lowers her voice, and it gives him goosebumps. "You're an amazing songwriter. You're passionate and dedicated. You brought music back into my life because you know how important it is. I'm sorry that it took your family so long to appreciate this side of you. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. All of you. You have so many amazing things to give to this world."

His eyes fall closed against the sting of his tears. She really was magic, wasn't she?

When they open again, a smile appears on her face. There wasn't any trace of that storm from before. His eyes are a bright green that gleams in the light, thanks in part to the unshed tears. She lifts her head from his shoulder to look back at him.

"You're too good to me, Molina." His tone is playful, lighter than before. The laugh that stumbles from her lips in response is unfiltered. Though she's still draped over his side, the need to hang on seems less dire. 

"I know." 

(It takes everything in him not to kiss her.  _ Everything _ .)

Luke laughs and shakes his head subtly, choosing instead to press a kiss to her temple. It's quick, but he hopes that she can read the message he tried to convey:  _ thank you _ .

(She was thankful that he couldn't feel the goosebumps that traveled up her arms and down her back when his lips touched her skin.)

The sound of bickering voices coming up the drive pulled both of them back to reality. Luke can't tell what Reggie was so animatedly professing, but it only widened the close-lipped smile that had settled on his lips. He was thankful that they hadn't chosen to _poof_ back into the studio, but he was happy to have them back nonetheless. Julie slowly unravels herself from him, moving to stand in front of him with an outstretched hand. 

"C'mon. We should show them the song we finished before we get roped into whatever conversation they're having."

Luke chuckles, agreeing with a nod, and grabs her hand to stand. Julie begins walking back to the piano with Luke in tow when he tugs her backwards and to a halt. He had to be fast; he wasn't in the mood for unnecessary teasing from the guys. He takes advantage of her surprise when she spins around to look at him quizzically and wraps her in his arms. She's slow to respond, but he only pulls her closer when her arms wrap around his waist. 

"Thank you."  _ For listening, for understanding, for not judging me. For believing in me,  _ **_in us_ ** _.  _

She smiles sweetly and her answer is muffled against his chest. 

"Hmm, thank you."  _ For opening up to me, for  _ **_trusting_ ** _ me. _

When Alex walks through the garage doors, expression indicative of his current opinion on the rambling happening behind him between Reggie and Willie, Luke and Julie are sitting at the piano bench with content - albeit amused - smiles on their faces. 

"Sounds like we were way more productive than you guys this morning," Julie teases. She plays a few notes quietly on the piano in an attempt to silence them for Alex's sake. 

"Whatever you guys have will sound ten times better than this," Alex groans.

Julie laughs, and that sound alone is like music to Luke's ears. 

"I don't think there's any competition."


	2. i always think about you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> julie celebrates the first anniversary of her mother's death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning: this chapter talks heavily of death (specifically death of a parent). please, read with caution if that is a hard subject for you. 
> 
> i lost my father when i was around julie's age; i did pull from personal experience to try and honor these characters the best i could. i hope you enjoy. <3

Julie could feel the weight of the day settle into her bones when she woke up that morning. She'd gone to sleep telling herself that it couldn't possibly be as bad as she was making it out to be. She was just afraid of it. That's all. It wasn't going to be that bad. 

She knew she was wrong before she even opened her eyes. 

Crawling out of bed takes ages. She can feel every joint moving, every muscle activating. She takes a deep breath and the relief her lungs should have felt feels a lot like pain. 

The universe seems hellbent on reminding her that there would be no relief in this day. She takes time conditioning her curls, but the ends frizz up before they're even dry. She gets mascara on her eyelid and hastily wipes it all away. Makeup was a poor choice anyway. She chooses to wear black, and when she fastens the dahlia pin to her shirt, she pokes her skin hard enough to bleed. 

_ Of course _ . 

She stares back at her own reflection in the mirror and tries to find traces of change. Her hair is longer and her face is thinner. Today, her eyes are a little darker. Her cheeks are usually flushed with color, and maybe it's just too early in the day to tell, but she looks pale. 

It's amazing the damage a single year can do. 

"Mija, ¿listas?" The sound of her father's voice shocks her, and her head turns incredibly quick to look to where he stands in her doorway. 

She nods once and offers a weak smile before walking toward him. "Yeah, papi." 

Ray outstretches an arm, and Julie gladly falls into that invitation and wraps her arms around him. She doesn't mention it, but he looks a little tired, too. "I'm going to get your brother. You can head down to the car." He presses a kiss to the top of her head before releasing her. 

The Molinas had a full day ahead of them. 

Julie takes her time making it outside, walking through the house in a quiet daze. She opens the passenger door just as Carlos leaves the house, and she's thankful that she doesn't have to wait in that car by herself for very long. 

But she catches a glimpse of three familiar faces in the rearview mirror that remind her that she wouldn't have been alone regardless. Standing just outside the garage, expressions helpless but loving, the boys give her a small wave. Luke is mouthing something to her and she might have missed it had he not said those words to her countless times before. 

_ You've got this. _

She offers them a smile as the rest of her family gets in the car. It doesn't reach her eyes. She doesn't look away until they've pulled away from the house completely. 

None of them knew how to do this. They'd never had to. Mourning and celebrating felt an awful lot alike today, and none of them knew how to do this  _ right _ . 

Julie had hoped Tia Victoria might have an idea, but she looked just as tired when she climbed into the back seat insisting that she sit with Carlos. Pleasantries were shared in hushed voices, but it didn't cut through the tension in the car. No one had wisdom to pull from in this situation. No one had any advice. This day was completely their own.

Breakfast was the first stop. Her mom loved going to breakfast after church on Sundays. It became a Molina specialty. Breakfast after Carlos' baseball games, breakfast late at night after Julie's winter showcase, breakfast to go on the first day of school. Julie remembered how full her heart was when she'd walked downstairs to find her dad making pancakes just a few short months ago. 

She tries to enjoy the smell of coffee and bacon when they walk into the restaurant. She even laughs when Carlos spills syrup on the sleeve of Tia Victoria's shirt -  _ Ay, sobrino! _ \- as he drenches his plate in sugar. 

It just doesn't feel the same. 

They linger a bit too long in silence at their table after the check's been paid. They all know what's next. They've all spent a week's worth of dinners discussing this day and all the things they needed to do for her. This had been the biggest argument.  _ When do we actually go and see her? _ It seemed wrong to do it first, but it seemed daunting to save it for last. So, they were going to her with full stomachs and broken hearts. Time to recover after. Just rip off the bandaid. 

They have to stop at three flower shops to find dahlias. They buy as many as they can carry. 

Julie grabs Carlos' hand as soon as they step onto the grass at the cemetery. Ray presses a kiss to the top of both of their heads and moves to stand next to Julie, taking her free hand in his. Tia Victoria is quick to do the same on Carlos' side. Julie pretends that she doesn't see the tears in her father's eyes. Hand-in-hand, they find Rose Molina's tombstone with ease. 

Dahlias are placed right at the base and they all sit beside each other, taking a moment to just look at their new reality. Julie had thought this year would never come to a close. She couldn't see how time could go on without her mom. 

But that was the thing -  _ it did _ . This year had brought all of them so many beautiful things. Julie refused to believe that her mother didn't play a hand in it. 

And although they all talk to her every chance they get, they sit there and tell her everything. Carlos' baseball team was on a winning streak. Tia Victoria rambled on about Ray's terrible meal planning, and Ray defended himself as if Rose was there to hear it. Julie told her all about the band she'd found halfway across the world, and she laughs at the inside joke she creates by telling their story. Her mom knew the truth; her mom  **was** the truth. The tension seems to melt away, though the gravity of the day doesn't lessen. 

But then it was time to go. They all fall quiet though their tears speak volumes. None of them want to leave, but they know she isn't really here. She would be with them wherever they went, and they had one last thing to do. 

It feels like years before they're back in the car. This time, Julie sits in the back seat beside Carlos and Tia Victoria sits beside Ray. Julie reaches over to grab her brother's hand at the same time Victoria lays hers over Ray's on the gear shift. Julie catches it before she pulls away and finds herself smiling. 

This last stop had been an idea that formed over weeks of contemplation. How do you best honor someone who held the world in her eyes? Music in her soul?

Well, you retrace her steps and try to feel the joy she found in the city. 

They spent hours walking the streets they'd known all of their lives. Stopping to listen in to a club where a guitar played softly from the back. Buying drinks from a vendor right off Sunset Boulevard and listening to the stories they'd heard a million times about the life their mother lived before they were here. Stories about music and parties and laughter. They walked through the stars on the Walk of Fame. They had looped back to the car before Julie had the chance to realize how long it had been. The day was almost over. 

Her chest had welled with admiration and awe with each story she heard, but she could feel it deflating once again. The magic of the day was wearing off. She would still return home without her mother. 

The car ride home seems a bit lighter, though they all carry a sullen grief. Tia Victoria makes everyone get out of the car when they pull up to her house and hugs the Molinas individually, whispering teary words of courage in their ears. Julie glances at Carlos and can't imagine for a second what it would be like to live without him, and she hugs her aunt a bit tighter. 

"I thought we could order pizza. Something easy tonight," Ray mentions as he unlocks the front door. Carlos agrees enthusiastically, and Julie nods uninterested. 

"Can you save me some? I think I just need some time alone." 

Ray nods, though his brows knit together. "Will you be in the studio?"

The 'yes' dies on her tongue before she can say it. The lights were on; she knew the guys were waiting for her. As much as she had grown in the last year, today she felt like the girl who had been too scared to open those garage doors months before. She never felt more connected to her mom than when she sat at that piano, but…. she just couldn't. 

"No. I'm just going to go to my room, if that's okay."

Her father wraps her in a hug and that lump in her throat returns. "Take your time, mija.  Estoy orgulloso de ti. Your mother is, too."

"Gracias, papi," She wipes away the tear that falls on her cheek, hoping that he didn't catch it. 

She makes a beeline up the stairs to her room and turns to close the door behind her quietly, sighing loud enough for the sound to echo in her ears. 

"You're really going to turn down pizza -"

"Ah!" She covers her mouth and spins around at inhuman speed, heart racing as her eyes land on the sleeveless boy sitting atop her bed. His hands fly up to profess his innocence. He seems truly sorry for sending her heart into hysterics, but his eyes are alight with a bit of humor. 

"I told you to stop doing that!" Julie whisper-screams, stepping farther into her room to lessen any sound that might travel downstairs to the rest of her family. 

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. I just wanted to see you. You've been out all day," His hands are still up as if he's a fugitive. Her heart is starting to resume normal rhythm, and his words are enough to soften her stern expression into one of appreciation. She didn't have much energy to tease, anyway. 

"A little warning would be nice next time."

Luke hadn't expected to see the version of her that usually (effortlessly) emitted light. He wasn't sure which Julie he would find when he decided to wait in her room. See, Julie was better at filtering her emotions than he was. He was impulsive and raw where she was more refined. It was something he admired about her purely because he wasn't capable of doing it himself. She wore her emotions in the position of her shoulders, her flickering gaze, the set of her lips: small tells he'd searched hard to find. 

He'd never seen this Julie before. The person standing before him had been completely stripped of her reserve. 

He's sitting on the edge of her bed. He pats the space next to him and nods in her direction,  _ an invitation _ . When he speaks again, his voice is much softer. "How was your day?"

It was like his words poked a hole right in the center of her chest and let out the last bit of strength she had. Shoulders slump as she walks toward her bed and she hears it creak when she falls on top of it. Sitting beside him, she bends over to peel off her shoes, tossing them toward her closet, before falling back until she laid flat against the mattress, feet dangling from the side. Under any other circumstance, Luke might have laughed. 

Instead, he mirrors her exactly. Seconds pass before he's laid out next to her, head turned and cheek pressed to her bedding to look at her. 

(His feet are still firmly planted on the ground, and he makes a note to tease her for her height when the timing is right.)

"That bad, huh?"

She turns her head to meet his gaze and he mentally kicks himself when he sees how glassy her brown eyes are. 

"No, actually. It was… perfect." A line forms between her brows as the irony sets in. This day was perfect. They'd done everything right. Her mother would have been so happy. Julie still felt… 

Broken. 

"We did all of her favorite things. We brought her flowers. It was a great day, but I can't stop thinking -"

" - that it's been an entire year without her." He doesn't mean to cut her off, but she didn't need to explain herself to him. 

Julie turns her head to look at the ceiling and presses her palms to her eyes almost painfully just to trap the tears there. It was stupid, right? She'd spent 365 days without her mom; today shouldn't have been any different. She didn't miss her any more, any less. If anything, she loved her more than she ever had. She had laughed today. Smiled and celebrated. Right now, it felt as if she'd never left this bed. 

Luke understood to some degree. Their loss was shared, yes, but told in reverse. She had lost her mother. His mother had lost him. He'd only begun to grieve when he'd been forcefully dropped back into this world. He often wondered if Julie wished she'd brought her mother back, but the thought never lasts very long.  _ It can't _ . Regardless, he couldn't make it so. 

He reaches over and pries one of her hands away from her face and takes it in his, holding it firmly between the two of them. 

"You don't have to hide from me, and you don't have to explain yourself. You're allowed to feel however you want to feel. Today especially." His voice is hushed, though it doesn't dull the meaning behind his words. When she speaks again, her voice is a bit deeper. Uneven. 

"I feel like I need to explain myself to  _ me _ . I thought it was getting better, you know? I - I thought that  _ I _ was getting better." She'd spent so much time with Dr. Turner. She'd rediscovered music. His hand felt heavy in her own; she wasn't blind to the fact that much of her growth was because of the boy sitting next to her and his best friends. Wounds that she'd stitched up were left open and bleeding today. Would she have to stitch them up all over again?

"Jules, you're going to have bad days. Bad days don't last forever."

Her head falls to the side, cheek laying in a bed of her own curls, and she looks back at him as if she's holding on to his every word with trembling hands. "Do you think it ever gets easier?"

He answers first with touch. ( _ He didn't yet have the words, so this gave him time to think them over _ .) He reaches across his body to take hold of the hand he was currently holding between the two of them, releasing that one to stretch above her head. He tugs her closer and in doing so slides the arm closest to her under her head, careful not to pull her hair. She didn't give him any indication that he had, anyway. She's practically putty in his hands. Her body moves where he wants it, finally coming to rest with her head in the crook of his shoulder. Her legs had curled under her on the bed and yet again, he made note of just how small she was. 

"I think that it has to. I don't think this day will ever get any easier, but I think that you'll find new ways to celebrate her that don't hurt as much." His mind flashes to the birthday candles he'd blown out between two gray and tired parents, and he hopes he isn't lying to her. "I hope that maybe all of the good things that you have will outweigh the bad. I don't think you'll ever miss her any less, but  — I don't think you'll feel like this forever."

Her answering nod against his shoulder was all the response he needed. 

It's minutes before she speaks again. 

"I was going to kick you out, you know." Julie's voice is muffled by his shirt. Luke stifles his smile. 

"You definitely still can. I'll leave with minimal complaining."

Julie laughs quietly through parted lips. "I'm glad you're here. I don't really think being alone was what I wanted, I just — didn't want to be like this around my family. I think Carlos is doing okay, and I didn't want him to see me like this."

That was definitely something Luke could understand. He disappeared when his emotions began to resemble hers. 

"If you want to talk about her, I'm happy to listen. Anyone who can write music like she could is a bad ass in my book."

Julie accepts with a chuckle that feels light in her chest, bubbly even. She was sure there were a few stories this day hadn't seen yet. 

They traverse every inch of her bed and every memory Julie can pull from her tired mind. She's in the middle of telling the story about their very first song when she hears the pizza delivery guy ring the doorbell, sitting knee-to-knee with Luke. She recalls how disappointed she was when they first brought Carlos home, and all he did was cry. Her mom taught her how to console him, but she definitely asked if they could return him once or twice. Her head is in his lap, and she bounces slightly when he laughs. They're sitting against her headboard, her head on his shoulder and his pressed into her hair, when she talks about the end. Her mother was beautiful up until the moment she was gone. Strong, loving, committed to her family. He can feel her tears against his shirt, but he doesn't say anything. Luke waits with bated breath when Ray calls through the door, asking if she wanted dinner. ( _ She isn't hungry, but she takes the time to hug her father and tell him how much she loved him before sending him on his way _ .) He lets out a breath he hadn't remembered holding when she's pressed against him once more. 

The moments of silence between them stretch out a bit longer as the night goes on. He waits to capitalize on it until he's sure she'd finished speaking, tucking away another heartfelt memory of the life she had before he'd known her. 

"So… did it get any easier?"

Her head lifts to look him in the eye, her own glazed and glassy, and a smile threatens to curve the corners of her lips. She takes a second just to consider how she felt. 

Her chest doesn't feel as tight as it had when she'd walked through her bedroom door. Her head feels heavy with exhaustion, but not painfully compressed. She remembers how beautiful it was to hear her family laughing as they shared their favorite memories or how comforting it had been to be in the arms of those who still carried her mother's legacy. She couldn't truly remember the dread she'd felt when she opened her eyes this morning or the fear as she awaited the day in the car alone. 

_ You've got this.  _

He'd said it himself. And she did, didn't she? Those feelings, for now, were put to rest. 

" — Yeah. It did. Thank you." 

Luke smiles as he looks over at her, his bottom lip held between his teeth. "I can be a good listener when I need to be. I think this is the longest I've ever been quiet, so… you're welcome."

She scoffs and shoves his shoulder, though she just as quickly grips his arm to pull him closer. "I mean it. I'm grateful that I could end this day with you. Really, it means a lot to me that you were here."

Luke's expression softens and he nods once, gaze maintaining hers. "Anything for you; you know that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one was a bit heavy.... sorry guys. 
> 
> if you have any ideas/moments that you would really like to see played out, let me know in the comments! i appreciate everyone who has given some love to this little drabble. <3


	3. you'll bring me home.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> julie and the guys rummage through a box of their old belongings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is a whole heck of a lot lighter than the last one. there's still a moment of angst (because i'm incapable of not writing it), but i hope you guys enjoy! <3

Selling the house was a conversation that had long been forgotten, but cleaning out the studio was still a non-negotiable. 

The guys had done a good job with this when they'd first showed up. Old clothes, guitar picks, setlists. Things that had been hastily shoved to the corners of the loft when the Molinas' had moved in and had subsequently been forgotten about when Rose's music took precedence. The "junk" her dad spoke about had been wiped clean of dust and was used far more than he probably knew. Honestly, Julie had forgotten about the stuff in the loft until Carlos had gotten a little curious. 

Julie sat cross-legged on the floor, back against the couch and head leaning against Alex's knee. They were supposed to be rehearsing, but Carlos had been rummaging through whatever was left up there looking for an old Nerf gun as if his life depended on it for at least twenty minutes. 

( _ His social life  _ **_did_ ** _ ; his friends were expecting an epic Nerf war, and he couldn't disappoint. He had a reputation to protect. _ )

Reggie and Luke were also laid out on the rug, listening to the chaos above them. Until Carlos left, they were all just sitting ducks. 

Julie was impressed that Carlos had figured out the whole ghost thing… but he was still her little brother. Band business was not brother business. 

"Carlos, maybe it's not here. C'mon, you've been up there forever," Julie calls, irritation clear in her voice. 

"I've looked everywhere else, okay?! It has to be here!" His voice echoed off the walls. Julie rolled her eyes, sparking a laugh from the blonde above her. 

"I always wanted a brother when I was little. Kinda glad that never happened," Luke grumbles. Boredom was setting in. Not that he was ever much of a patient guy, but boredom did not sit well with him. 

"I admire his dedication," Reggie muses. "I would have given up a long time ago."

"Woah, look!" Everyone's heads snap to the opening of the loft as Carlos begins to descend, carrying a box almost as big as he was. Luke bites back a snide remark as he watches the kid struggle, biting his bottom lip in the process. 

Julie groans. "That doesn't look like a Nerf gun to me. Carlos, come on — "

Carlos drops the box to the floor with a huff. "It's better than a Nerf gun. It was under some of those gross blanket things we covered stuff up with." 

Everyone looks in anticipation. Julie's brows are furrowed as Carlos folds back the edges of the box. 

"Boys, you've got a lot of weird stuff. It has to be yours because it smells, like, 100 years old." Carlos pulls out a distressed cut-off sweatshirt, grimacing for effect as he leans in to smell it. 

Luke knows that sweatshirt well. He sits up and kicks Julie's leg to get her attention. "Tell him to stop touching our stuff."

"Ow!" Julie yelps, shooting a glare in his direction. "Not necessary," she mumbles under her breath before turning to Carlos. "You came here for a stupid Nerf gun, not to mess around with things that aren't yours."

"There's gotta be some cool stuff in here, though! Like…..  _ antiques _ ."

"'95 was not that long ago. Does this kid know how to do math?" Alex questions, sarcasm heavy on his tongue. Julie fights a laugh as she rises to her feet and stumbles over to her brother. She plucks the sweatshirt from his hands and holds it just out of his reach. 

"They're not your 'antiques' to go through. Aren't your friends waiting for you?"

Carlos rolls his eyes — it's obvious that they're related in that moment — and crosses his arms. "You're a real buzzkill, you know that?"

The smile she gives him is a syrupy sweet. She keeps hold of Luke's sweatshirt and uses her free hand to tousle his hair. "That Nerf gun is probably buried under your bed. Can you leave now?"

It takes a brief stare-off, but eventually he runs out the door and back into the house to get on with his day. 

( _ Let the record state that his Nerf gun was buried under his bed next to a small pile of laundry that smelled much worse than the dust in that box _ .)

Reggie, Alex, and Luke had all made their way to the box in question.

"I honestly thought we found all of our stuff," Reggie said, taking a seat beside the box and reaching in to rummage through the items on the surface. Alex follows suit, sitting next to the bassist. Luke moves to stand next to Julie and reaches out to take the sweatshirt from her. 

"Your brother needs to work on boundaries."

"That's rich coming from you," Julie teases, quirking a brow as she sits at an empty side of the box. Luke mirrors her, though his expression fits that of a scowl. 

Reggie pulls a small stack of Sunset Curve's demos from the top of the box and spends a minute looking over the case with a fond smile. Alex doesn't waste any time in diving in to look for himself. Julie assumed that Trevor — Bobby — had packed their things after they died. It was exciting to catch a glimpse into their lives. She chose to ignore the melancholy truth that lay in this box and revel in the chance to see into their lives from their own personal lens. 

"You've got to be kidding me," Alex chuckles, holding up two broken drumsticks. Luke looks up and laughs, eyes alight. "Remember when —"

"— you bet I couldn't break those with my bare hands? Luke Patterson never backs down from a challenge."

"You broke them right before one of our gigs on the pier."

"And Reggie always carries back ups in his case! It was fine. You still owe me five dollars, Mercer." 

It's nice to see them like this. Things were so new for so long. They'd been under Caleb's hold, they'd been working to set themselves free. There had been a dark cloud over them, unbeknownst to her, for most of their friendship. Now? It was comforting to just see them…  _ be _ . 

Luke drops the sweatshirt in his lap and takes his turn looking through the box. He pries an old guitar strap from the bottom with a reminiscent smile on his face. It came with the guitar when his parents had given it to him. The one he had now had been his first purchase after their first paid gig. The black and white strap in his hand just wasn't his style; the one attached to his guitar across the room had just seemed so much more badass. 

"I wonder why he didn't just throw this stuff away," Reggie quipped. The atmosphere took on a somber light at the mention of the band member _who shall not be named_. 

Every time Luke tried to think about what this must have been like for Bobby, that damn record sparkled right in the forefront of his mind. He would like to think that his friend mourned them. Bobby must have felt something, or this stuff would have ended up at a half-assed garage sale or in someone's trash can. Clearly, whatever grief he felt must not have lasted very long. 

Julie only knew him as Carrie's dad. He was always nice, if not a bit absent. Fame meant a lot to him, and he'd passed that on to his daughter. That was one of the reason's Julie and Carrie had fallen out — music just meant something different to the two of them. For Carrie, it was a way to be heard. To be recognized. For Julie, it was a way to be felt. She wondered if that was maybe the difference between the boys in front of her and the man that sat high in his mansion. History did repeat itself, didn't it?

"It was probably just easier to pack it away like it never existed," Alex shrugged, toying with the jagged edge of a broken drumstick. 

"Do you really believe that?" She doesn't realize she's asked out loud until all three of them are staring back at her. Reggie seems torn, his expression soft but pensive. Alex seems defeated, though the hint of laughter from a moment ago still glints in his eyes. Julie regrets asking when she catches a glimpse of Luke's gaze. Cloudy emerald orbs look back at her and she's sure it was the wrong question to ask. She was prodding a fresh wound with reminders of a false reality mocking them from that cardboard box. 

"I just mean — he couldn't have always had bad intentions, right? The person he is now doesn't have to ruin the person that you knew."

It's a nice thought. Reggie offers her a smile and a nod as he opens the demo in his hand to look at the picture of the four of them. 

"Doesn't make it any less shitty that he's living the life we were supposed to have though, does it?" Julie knew that Luke's words weren't directed at her, but she would practically taste the acidity of them. 

"Luke —" Alex murmurs, shooting him a cautionary glance. 

"What? We die, he moves on. That's life, I get it. But our lives are just shoved away in a box while he takes everything we worked for and writes his name on it?" He doesn't look at any of them and chooses rather to dig through their belongings once again. 

"It's great that he kept your replacement strings — " He tosses an unopened pack to Reggie carelessly.

"And yeah, I guess it's nice that he didn't throw away the tickets to the first show we saw at the Orpheum — " He isn't even looking where he throws those flimsy, folded, yellowed pieces of paper, but Alex catches one before it hits the ground. 

"But he still sold us out. We weren't even around to defend ourselves, and he just took everything like it was nothing."

"Hey — " Julie reaches out to wrap her hand around his wrist before he's able to toss anything else out of that box. She's gentle; her thumb brushes over the place where his pulse should have been. "No one is saying that what he did to you was right." She tugs his arms out of the box and slides her hand down until her fingers are interlacing his between them. 

"It does kind of suck to think that all that's left of us is basically in this studio. In this box," Reggie murmurs, brows furrowed and lips set in a line as he looks to each of them. 

Julie would give anything to take them all back five minutes ago when the excitement of finding a box of their unclaimed belongings was high. She was excited to take a glimpse into their lives, and they were excited to remember.

Their existence had been split into two: before and after. Sometimes she forgot, and frankly didn't understand, how hard the after must be because of the memories of before. 

"You mean more than a box of things, you know that right? This — stuff doesn't define you." 

"It's what's left of us though, isn't it?" The tension in the room had finally cut through Alex. 

"Band circle. Come on." She still has Luke's hand in hers with a vice grip, but she upholds her other hand for Reggie to take. He doesn't hesitate long before taking it, doing the same to Alex. Luke looks to her incredulously and she would like to think that her mom would have been proud of the look she throws him that gets him to take Alex's hand. 

"You're right, okay? There is absolutely nothing positive about the way you guys got here. The hot dog thing, the Trevor thing. But you're here,  _ with me _ . I like seeing all of your guys' stuff from before. I feel like I'm closer to you. It makes what we have that much more special, y'know? Kind of like two worlds colliding." She squeezes the hands in hers and offers a small smile, the corners of her lips twitching upward. 

"You're leaving a new legacy with me. We have something good now. Seeing all of this stuff is like putting together a puzzle of the way things used to be. I think it's really cool. And Luke — " She turns to him, expression playful. "If you break any of my equipment in half, I'll break you."

He doesn't completely crack, but the smirk that rises to his lips expels a cautious breath from her lungs. 

"We're lucky we have you, Jules," Reggie squeezes her hand in return before letting go to toss their things back into the box. 

"I know, I know. I'm amazing," she teases. 

( _ She still hasn't dropped Luke's hand, and he doesn't seem to be in any hurry to let go of her. _ )

"You guys should pick out the stuff you want to keep, and I'll hold on to it. There's a trunk of my mom's stuff in my room, and I can fit whatever you want in there. It'll be safe, I promise." 

They spend the next few minutes sorting through their things with a much lighter air around them. Julie sits back and bathes in their laughter. Her dad would be happy to have a box gone from the loft, and she was happy to watch them be the kids that they were.  _ That they all were _ . 

The guys take the things they don't want to the curb and sets them next to the trash can for the next day. It was refreshing to feel like they were moving forward, to ignore for a minute that they're frozen in place. Julie gathers all of the miscellaneous items they decided to keep and takes them for safe keeping up to her room. 

( _ She may or may not have taken one item that  _ **_wasn't_ ** _ requested for herself —  _ )

It's late when Julie hears a knock on her door. She's awake, finishing calculus homework, and she doesn't look up when she calls for whoever it was to come in. Hair pulled up in a bun, glasses on the edge of her nose,  _ and Luke's cut-off sweatshirt billowing around her shoulders _ . 

She looks up curiously when she doesn't hear the door creak open to find the owner of said sweatshirt looking back at her with wide eyes and parted lips. She freezes. 

"What are you — "

"Sorry, I was — "

They both chuckle awkwardly and sit far too long in silence waiting for the other to say something. Luke finally clears his throat, hand rising to rub at the back of his neck. 

"I just wanted to, uh — apologize for earlier and say thank you for… sorry, you really decided to keep that?" His hand falls and gestures to her clothing choice.

"I just thought you might want to hold on to it, and uh — I was kind of cold, so…" 

(That argument  **crumbled** before it even had a chance. As most of his tops were, this one too was missing the sleeves. They were cut off right at the middle of his upper arm, though they fell to her elbow. Cold seemed a bit irrelevant here.)

"Well… it looks better on you than it ever did on me. Consider it yours."

A soft blush rises to her cheeks and she hopes he doesn't see it. The heat is enough to coax her gaze from his, falling back to her homework to regain her composure. Exponents and derivatives seemed so foreign all of the sudden. 

"You wanted to say something?" She finally questions, tapping her pencil against her notebook and looking back to him, hopefully, with a more neutral expression. 

"Oh! Right." He rocks back on his heels and shoves his hands in his pockets, the shock and awe of finding Julie Molina in his clothes not quite gone from his psyche. "I just wanted to thank you for earlier. That whole death thing can be a little heavy sometimes."  _ A poor and failed attempt at humor _ . "I just wanted you to know that I don't take what we have for granted. Y'know, I don't wish things were different. I mean, I wish some things were different but… our band and our music means a lot to me, and I wanted to say that I was sorry for losing sight of that."

The answering smile she gives him is soft, sweet, it sets a glow in her eyes that's clear even behind the glare of her glasses. She hadn't doubted it, but it was still nice to hear. 

"I would never do to you guys what Trev —  **Bobby** did to you. You mean a lot to me, and our music is special. You guys are more than just a box of  _ antiques _ to me." Yes, that word was used on purpose. 

Luke chuckles, teeth stalling on his bottom lip for a brief second, before nodding once in understanding. "Reg was right. We're lucky that we have you."

"I think we've all got some luck to go around."  _ I wouldn't be here without any of you _ .

They spend a quiet moment locked in a stare. He's the one who breaks it, his gaze flickering back to that sweatshirt and hers dropping once again as that familiar heat creeps up her neck and onto her cheeks. 

"I'll let you get back to… whatever you're doing. Homework is definitely not my thing." 

She nods and watches him turn, the words on the tip of her tongue dying to come out. It wasn't the right time. It would make things weird! But… they're out before she can stop them. 

"Luke? I — I wanted to keep this. Wearing it makes me feel closer to you."

If it were possible, his heart would have stopped beating right then and there. 

"Like I said. It's yours."

( _ When Luke makes it back to the garage, it only takes seconds for him to tell his two best friends of what he found when he entered her room. There's a solid minute of hollers and hands clapping his back, teasing that was to be expected. They're relentless. As if it weren't embarrassing enough, he's convinced that Julie must have heard them from her open window. _

  
**_She did_ ** .)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, i'm blown away by the love you guys have given these drabbles. if there's any ideas or prompts you would like to see come to life - let me know! <3


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